


Evidence to the Contrary

by The Black Sluggard (Hazgarn)



Series: Evidence [2]
Category: Castle
Genre: Angst, Horror, M/M, Romance, Slash, Supernatural Elements, Suspense, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-13
Updated: 2011-08-09
Packaged: 2017-10-22 12:26:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/237993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazgarn/pseuds/The%20Black%20Sluggard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>"Ah,  Kev, I expect this crap from Castle, like when he got bit by our  'vampire'," Esposito favored him with full air quotes, "Or when he was  convinced he got cursed by a mummy, but c'mon, you're smarter than  that."</em>
</p><p>Because Javier is absolutely <em>sure</em> there are no werewolves in Manhattan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

As mornings after went, this one fell into the not-so-great range. Naturally it wasn't the first time he had ever woken up to a pounding head and a sick film of nausea clinging to the back of his throat, but all that trouble without the consolation of having earned it through enjoyable means was definitely a drag. Concussions were never fun, but with the added element of his partner's soft swearing and frantic scramble to retrieve his clothes as he scuttled and thumped about the apartment, Javier Esposito briefly contemplated willing himself to die.  
  
"Shit, _shit_...ah, hell..."  
  
His eyes still squeezed shut, the breathless, frantic litany cut in harshly through his misery. As much as he wanted to ask Kevin to please have his panic attack in silence, his stomach rebelled against the effort that would take with a violent flip. By the time he'd managed to wrestle his eyes open against the light stabbing in from the window, Kevin had already made his way out of the apartment. A shuttered glance at the clock told him it was hours still before he even had to decide whether to go into work today. Muffling a pitiful groan against the pillow his mind shut off, determined to handle it all a little later.  
  
Hours later Javier sat at his kitchen table feeling marginally more human, though was still miles from handling anything on his stomach. Scrubbing his hands roughly over his face, he filed uncertainly through his recollection of the night before. He had to wonder how he'd even managed, in his condition. In the end, he chalked it up to painkillers coloring his judgments with a faint tone "who gives a crap". And, perhaps, strength born of desperation, the knowledge that the opportunity in front of him probably wouldn't come again.  
  
Judging by his partner's swift retreat, that assessment looked about right. It wasn't unexpected, but damned disappointing nonetheless. Jamming his thumbs roughly into his eye sockets, Javier snorted, though there was very little funny about just how badly he had fucked things up. It was a mistake he never could have made before. They'd worked together for years, and though they were about as different as two men in their line of work could be he had a pretty strong sense of the guy. He used to know the man, understand how he thought, what made him tick...  
  
Over the past two months, though, Kevin had changed and Javier had been thrown completely off track.  
  
Javier had been the first to notice the changes, naturally. Back when they were small things that for the most part went unnoticed by everyone else. It hadn't occurred to him then to bring any attention to them. To do so would have brought unwanted attention on himself. A guy might notice that his partner had started putting three creams in his coffee instead of drinking it black, or that he'd ordered his last two burgers sans the extra onions he nearly _always_ asked for. But the observation that Kevin had stopped wearing his usual cologne was _definitely_ suspect. In any case, the 12th was swamped that week, and so Javier had finally shoved these details into his mental "Ryan" file and tried to forget them.  
  
Only, the changes didn't stop there. Kevin became easily agitated, and increasingly short tempered. There was a tension building in the man's posture that at times had Javier almost reluctant to occupy their usual close quarters with one another. Roughly two and a half weeks into it saw Kevin's snappish warning to "back the fuck off" finally driving Javier to keep his distance. It was about then that he thought things started to catch Beckett's attention. She'd drawn Javier aside discreetly when neither his partner nor Castle were around, but he could only answer her questions with his own confusion.  
  
Three weeks in, Javier was in the hall when he overheard Kevin on the phone, and at first he thought he might finally have his answer.  
  
"Alright. I promise. I promise I won't come home until you're done just—" His partner's voice had held a calm, strained tone that audibly trembled with what it held back. "Just...get your stuff out and...go."  
  
His breath had stalled tight in his chest as he watched Kevin's back retreat into the locker room. Thinking that maybe this might be the time to confront his partner, Javier had followed. He came around a row of lockers just in time to see Kevin laying into a garbage can. Savage kicks dashed it against the wall as it spilled it's guts out onto the floor, the assault didn't stop until long after the plastic had caved in. Javier had watched as Kevin took a step back, dragging shaking hands through his hair.  
  
His expression, reflected in a nearby mirror, was so lost, frustrated and _frightened_ , that Javier had sucked in a stunned gasp.  
  
Kevin's body tensed up immediately. The expression was gone very quickly, and as he watched Javier saw him tilt his head, as though listening, turning slightly toward him. Though Kevin never turned to face him entirely, he was certain the man knew someone was watching. Javier had backed out of the locker room very quickly after that. It was only in the hallway outside, his heart beating rapidly against his ribs that he realized that, for a moment, he had been afraid. Afraid of _Kevin_. Afraid of a man who, until now, he had never doubted he could trust with his life. The realization settled sickly in his stomach. With it was an itching feeling of apprehension in the back of his mind, one that, inexplicably, told him that he was running out of time.  
  
It was only a few days later, however, that Kevin's behavior took another shocking swerve. The peculiar aggression seemed to abandon him very suddenly, replaced by a flinching, contrite anxiety. For the better part of two days Javier struggled to even get his partner to look him in the eye, and even then the eye-contact was broken quickly. Many around the station were relieved by the shift, but while Javier welcomed a change from something more destructive, he quietly disagreed that this nervous, constrained Ryan was any kind of improvement. Because there was the same odd, wild quality in his partner's eyes that he'd seen at the height of his rage, and it didn't belong there.  
  
After a short period of adjustment things seemed to return mostly to normal, though Javier could sometimes feel it bubbling under the surface. Though his partner eventually shucked the nervousness, and the blistering anger had yet to return, it was plain—to Javier, at least—that whatever it was, Kevin was keeping it on a very short chain. He dreaded it and what it might mean for their partnership, but Javier was at a loss as to what to do about it. He just knew that, whatever weird shit was up with Kevin, Javier had his back. That much wasn't going to change.  
  
Still, when that chain finally decided to snap, he was woefully underprepared. That a bad case would be what finally did it wasn't, perhaps, that surprising, but the manner in which Kevin's careful control undid itself had definitely caught Javier off guard.  
  
They'd trailed a suspect to a vacant office building. The company that had gone under when the slimeball in question had abused his brother's trust and computer access, siphoning over a million from their finances before his brother caught on and was killed for his trouble. A handful of uniforms were covering the parking lot and the exits. Beckett had taken Castle down one end of the corridor, while he and Kevin had taken the other. It was past one in the morning, and the power had been shut off when the business took a dive. Dim streetlight filtered in through the windows as the two of them had traveled close to the wall. Javier had been about to open the door to an office to check it when he felt Kevin's hand on his chest, stopping him cold. In the darkness he couldn't make out his partner's expression, but he could see that his head was tilted slightly. A flash of cold coursed over his skin, raising goosebumps as he watched, Kevin's posture reminding him of the episode in the locker room almost a month before.  
  
He had only a moment to register his partner's pale hand flash, pointing down the hall, before Kevin was gone. Biting down on a swear, Javier chased after. He swung around a corner following his partner's shadow. Javier remembered catching up about to ask Kevin what he was thinking running off like that when his partner's head snapped up suddenly. After that, things got a little choppy. Being hit by a perp in the back of the head with a monster Mag-Lite will do that. The next thing he could pin down was watching Beckett and a bewildered Castle trying to drag Kevin away from their suspect. In the dark, he couldn't see the the man well. Prodding the memory simply brought the image of spilled trash and buckled plastic.  
  
As worryingly out of character as it was, though, it hadn't been the breaking point.  
  
Later, sitting in the ambulance being assaulted with a flashlight for the second time that night, still punchy from what the EMT was calling a mild concussion, Javier had let his mouth run a bit. She had blue eyes that were nice, and he said so, which she had laughed off. That had made him comment on her smile, which she hadn't. Tucking a strand of light brown over her ear she had asked if there was anyone at home to take care of him. Just in case. And Kevin was there, telling the paramedic he'd take care of it. He didn't see Kevin's expression when he spoke to her, but Javier wasn't at all sure the apprehensive spark in her eyes was a trick of the painted lights.  
  
He let himself be bundled up in the car and driven home. The drive was fairly silent, glimpses he got of his partner in the passing glow of the streetlights giving him little clue as to what was going on in the other man's head. His own head had been pounding too hard to try and puzzle it out just then, anyway. Up in his apartment, he'd unearthed a few Vicodin left over from his troubles during that miserable steampunk case. In hindsight, taking them had been kind of dumb, but hindsight also told him it was far from the dumbest thing he would do that night.  
  
Opening the bathroom door he'd almost run straight into his partner.  
  
After the past few weeks it was almost startling to have him so close. He had found himself thinking, not for the first time, of how much he missed it. Their eyes met briefly. Javier saw concern on his partner's face, which made sense. For a brief moment, he thought there was a touch of fear, which really didn't. It faded and Javier wasn't sure exactly what to call the one that replaced it. His partner's head turned subtly in one of those not-Kevin gestures that made the hair stand up on his arms. Kevin leaned in, crowding him completely and suddenly. Javier froze, brain fitfully trying to filter the information of fingers tugging his collar, warm breath tickling the flesh behind his ear and come out with an explanation that made any kind of sense.  
  
In his mind there was only one reasonable response.  
  
Closing the few inches that remained, Javier laid his lips gently against Kevin's neck, eliciting a soft, deep noise that was impossible to interpret as protest. He was encouraged when he felt Kevin lean into it and not away. Moving his exploration upward he teased Kevin's ear with his teeth. Things exploded from there as Kevin got involved, sucking Javier's mouth against his in a fierce assault. As the cramped quarters of the hallway quickly became more annoyance than attraction, Javier had managed to slip underneath Kevin's arms where they supported his weight against the wall. Answering Kevin's disappointed noise with a finger hooked through his tie, Javier lead him to the bedroom.  
  
The ensuing race for skin on skin had been almost perfect, one of the few moments in the past months that had felt _right_.  
  
Then the morning had come. Kevin had woken up and decided to run, uttering a string of horrified, guilty curses like he'd just run over someone's cat and leaving Javier with a sick pain in his gut that had nothing to do with his head. Alone in an empty apartment, Javier had only two thoughts on his mind. The first was that by letting what had happened that night _happen_ he'd broken something that couldn't be fixed.  
  
The second was that the purpling love-bite his partner had left on his shoulder was going to need some attention.


	2. Chapter 2

Somehow Javier mustered the strength and dignity he needed to face work that day. Though he _was_ late by almost a half hour. Judging by the lack of comment from even Beckett, he must have looked crap. In the bullpen Castle slapped him on the back and he couldn't help but wince. Beside the lingering pain throbbing in his skull here was a deep ache in his muscles and his joints that he didn't like to think had roots in the previous night's activities, good or bad. As intense as they had been, he couldn't be getting that old. Normally he'd prefer to downplay it, but Kevin's careful effort not to notice had him feeling a little vindictive.  
  
"Still a little tender from last night," he explained to Castle, louder than necessary, feeling a bit of spiteful satisfaction at the tension in Kevin's shoulders.  
  
Kevin's head sank low at his desk. He appeared to be working on the paperwork in front of him. Javier knew better. As tempting as it was to leave Kevin to stew and squirm, Javier had the feeling it would only add fuel to an already volatile fire. And, at the very least, he thought he'd earned the right to come right out and ask just what the _fuck_ was going on.  
  
Badly distracted for reasons blatantly obvious to only the two of them, a frustrated Beckett had finally sent Kevin off to the file room. Javier waited a few long moments before excusing himself as well and, taking Kate's exasperated wave as unneeded permission, followed. The trap he set wasn't a particularly good one judging from the sudden hesitation of Kevin's steps in the hall, but Javier didn't allow him the chance to retreat.  
  
"We need to talk," He informed his partner as he ushered Kevin into the nearby restroom. Having already made sure the room was empty he quickly secured the lock behind them. " _Now_."  
  
The expression of surprise on Kevin's face might almost have been comical if not for the defensive tautness in the man's shoulders, a trapped-animal vibe so strong that Javier almost reconsidered. In planning the confrontation, he hadn't quite decided just what he would say, but with the desperate light of panic in those blue eyes threatening to destroy his resolve, Javier found it all pouring out at once.  
  
"Kevin. What the _hell_ is up with you?" He grated out by way of opening. "You've been acting like a total basket case. You've been acting all paranoid, and bitchy as hell. I'd probably blame it your break up with Jenny if it hadn't started _before_ that. Don't even _think_ nobody's noticed. Though if I hadn't, _last night_ would have been pretty hard to miss. I mean...what the actual _fuck_ , Kev?!"  
  
So that approach had its disadvantages in regards to tactfulness. Kevin's expression was stricken—he probably could not have looked more so if Javier had _actually_ slapped him in the face. Javier felt like a heel, but did his best not to let it show beneath the anger and frustration he felt. Watching Kevin's face as the other man floundered with almost physical agony to provide him with an answer made that feat unbelievably difficult.  
  
"I didn't— I mean I'm not..." His stumbling trailed off, forehead writing itself into that language of wrinkles that Javier could almost read as he weighed words in his head. He leaned in uncertainly, voice lowered to a cautious whisper despite their being completely alone. "I'm not gay."  
  
Javier couldn't help but grit his teeth. Somewhere in the course of their partnership he'd come to trust Kevin with his life. He wasn't exactly _out_ in as many words, but once they had reached that level of trust it wasn't something he'd tried especially hard to hide from the man. Risky, but it had been good—scratch that, it had been _damned_ good to have someone he didn't have to hide from, if only to recount a bad date or three in full detail. It was a gamble that Kevin had never given him cause to regret, but in their current context Kevin's painful, embarrassed denial was working his last nerve.  
  
"Despite last night's _wealth_ of evidence to the contrary?" His tone was harsher than he normally would have liked, harsher than he'd even expected upon opening his mouth, but _hell_. He felt he had more than enough justification to be annoyed.  
  
Kevin's face twisted in an anguished expression which Javier thought he should in no way find any satisfaction in. Though any alleged positive feelings justly evaporate when Kevin finally finds his tongue to reply.  
  
"Last night was a mistake."  
  
Okay. _Fuck_ annoyed.  
  
"No. Na- _ah_ ," Javier argued, poking a sharp finger into his partner's chest that made him flinch. "You want to try and use the rebound card, Kev, you go right ahead. But freaking out because you tried a little dick? Do not even try to pull _that_ shit with me."  
  
And maybe it was the physical assault that did it, feeble as it was, because finally—freaking _finally_ —Kevin seemed ready to pull himself out of the defensive headspace he'd been living in for the past month or so. The shove Kevin aimed at his chest knocked him back a few steps, the distance closed between them before Javier could even react. And this close, with Kevin in his face, Javier imagined he could see it, that whatever-it-was he didn't have a name for. He could see it _and_ the trembling effort it took his partner to keep it in check.  
  
"Damn it, Javi, I mean I wasn't _in control_."  
  
Kevin's voice was uneven, halting as he formed the sentence, naked distress slicing past Javier's anger life a knife. The phrasing alone set an alarm blazing in his head that for several moments drowned out all thought. Because he _couldn't_ have— He didn't think he could handle the possibility that he had taken advantage of his partner while the other man was drunk. But no, he decided, once he got his brain to turn over properly. _No_. He knew what Kevin was like when he was drunk. _This_ was something else...  
  
Had there been signs he'd missed? Besides, like, _everything_. He didn't like even entertaining what entered his head at that moment as a possibility. It was so out of character for him—but then, so was everything lately. He had to ask.  
  
"Hey," he was so careful as he set his hand on Kevin's shoulder, waiting for the wary glance that followed the motion to return to his eyes before he spoke, "you doing drugs, Kev?"  
  
"What? _No_ , I..."  
  
Kevin trailed off, eyes focusing on the wall behind him. Frustration and indecision warred across his features, too swiftly for Javier to make sense of them before all the energy just bled out of him. He took a step back, eyes seeming to measure the span between them almost deliberately, his hand cutting a loose, mute gesture as he grasped visibly for the words, silent for several moments before he spoke.  
  
"You... You remember when I got bit by that dog working a case a couple months ago?"  
  
It was so apparently off-topic that Javier almost laughed. Caught off guard, his response was light.  
  
"I remember you being so freaked out when we couldn't find the dog you half convinced yourself you'd caught rabies..." Then his brain caught up with the rest of their conversation. Flashes of Kevin's bizarre behavior had the teasing smirk on his face disappearing sharply.  
  
"Bro, it's _not_ rabies, is it?"  
  
Kevin's startled snort of laughter managed to loosen some of the worry that had been wadding itself up beneath his ribs. As he watched, Kevin's let out a slow, sick breath, lips pulled in an expression that was half nervous, rueful smile, half grimace.  
  
"Uh, _no_..." He muttered to himself, quietly enough that he couldn't have expected Javier to hear. "Definitely _not_ rabies..."  
  
He lapsed into silence again, running a hand over the back of his neck. His fingers tangled themselves briefly in the short hairs at the back of his skull, giving a sharp tug before they fell away. After another odd, shifting, awkward pause Kevin let out a breath, taking a step in to speak.  
  
"I, ah..." He swallowed, smoothing a voice that sounded weak and on the edge of cracking. Javier could feel Kevin's scrutiny as the other man watched his face with an alarming intensity, as if cataloging his reactions by the nanosecond. As he spoke his own expression was flinching and hesitant, as if he were imparting the single most embarrassing detail of his life. "Javi...I think I got bit by a werewolf."  
  
Javier would try forgive himself later for laughing, but he honest to God thought Kevin was joking.  
  
Which seemed massively inappropriate to the occasion, sure, but any other explanation was patently ridiculous. Except for the part where Kevin wasn't laughing. Except for the red embarrassed heat staining his face, and the taut line of his shoulders. Except for the eyes that were boring holes in the floor that now refused to look back at him. All of those things together made it painfully obvious that _Kevin_ obviously didn't think what he'd just said was at all funny. The sudden shift toward that realization made Javier's stomach drop.  
  
Javier swiped a hand over his mouth as he floundered for a response.  
  
"Ah, Kev, I expect this crap from _Castle_ , like when he got bit by our 'vampire'," Javier favored him with full air quotes. "Or when he was convinced he got cursed by a mummy. C'mon, you're smarter than that."  
  
Javier decided squarely then and there that the writer could _not_ be allowed unsupervised around his partner. Because, honestly, Kevin was taking a page from Castle's book, and it was one of the early ones with the voodoo and Wiccans out for revenge. Rick was an okay guy and all, but he and Kevin both had fertile imaginations and were almost the same kind of high-strung. If Kevin was ready to add two and two together and come up with werewolves, then he was already dangerously close to the kind of crazy that couldn't be fixed.  
  
"This is different, Javier," Kevin said, softly, plainly trying to keep his voice steady. "I mean...I know. Okay? I _know_ how crazy it sounds, but this is _real_."  
  
 _Oh, well as long as he knew_. Javier thought, struggling to handle the sheer surreality of their conversation.  
  
"You got bit by a _dog_ , Kevin," he managed slowly, striving for calm and reasonable, but falling a few octaves short of the mark. "There are no _wolves_ in Manhattan."  
  
"W—"  
  
"Not even werewolves," He exclaimed, with perhaps more force to his voice than was strictly necessary, lifting a finger and stopping Kevin's argument in it's tracks. "Just a homeless dust head who let his dog chew on his victims. That's _it_."  
  
"We never got a good look at that dog, Javi. Hell, we friggin' _looked_. It was just gone."  
  
"The shot scared it off, bro."  
  
Kevin's snort sent Javier's mood diving back toward the annoyance he'd been feeling not fifteen minutes ago before his life got weird-as-shit, because they were honest to God _still arguing this_.  
  
"Yeah, leaving it's owner dead and _naked_ in the middle of Central Park," Kevin's tone held an edge of skeptical sarcasm that was impossible to miss. "Don't pretend that wasn't weird. Beckett was aiming for the dog...that thing was _on_ me. She would never have taken the shot if it wasn't clear. "  
  
He lifted his hand toward Javier's shoulder but he let it drop inches away from contact.  
  
"Javi it was a full moon and..." His voice was small and vulnerable. "And Kate just doesn't _miss_ like that."  
  
And God damn it, Javier would have given anything for a decent rebuttal for that last part, because Beckett hadn't wanted to let that detail go, either.  
  
"Are you sure it's _not_ just rabies?" He didn't even try to keep the resignation out of his voice. By now he was beginning to realize that the only way to progress in this conversation was if he accepted Kevin's self-diagnosis—not as fact, because that just wasn't _sane_ , but as one that the man sincerely believed.  
  
Kevin offered a faint smile, shadowed by a very similar resignation. He seemed tired.  
  
"C'mon, bro, you think I wouldn't consider that before this—this other thing? Trust me, I looked it up. And 'just rabies' would still mean I was dying. Turns out once your symptomatic it's over pretty quickly. This has been going on for _two months_ , Javi. If it was rabies I'd probably be dead by now, or in a coma with my brain turning to mush."  
  
Kevin sighed, stepping back to hitch his hip against a sink, his hands spread open in front of him.  
  
"Hell, I didn't want to think it, either, bro. It sounds nuts. It _is_ nuts. From the inside, though, it's so not nuts because I've _felt_ myself... Changing."  
  
Kevin paused for a moment, dragging both hands through his hair as he strung his thoughts together.  
  
"I mean, _I've_ changed. I'm different. You know, Jenny knows, the whole friggin' precinct _knows_. Only you don't, not really."  
  
"Then try and help me out, Kev," Javier said, mirroring Kevin's lean against the wall beside the door. "Help me understand this."  
  
Kevin gave a slight nod, releasing a breath so slow he could have been holding it for years.  
  
"It was just little things at first. I mean, stuff I'd notice then dismiss as nothing. Like it was all in my head, or just side-effects of the tetanus shot the ER doc gave me to shut me up. Things started to seem too loud, or bright. Food didn't taste right, and I started noticing smells I shouldn't have been able to notice. And it wasn't really anything to start with, but it kept getting worse. By the end of the first week, it was a little like having a hangover twenty-four seven. Like everything's just in my face all the time. And I haven't meant to be an asshole, but emotionally it's like I've got no buffer anymore. I'm starting to get used to it, though. _That_ much I'm getting used to..."  
  
Kevin's eyes studied the tile beneath his feet, but Javier still saw that lost, terrified look from last month creep back in. He forced his hands into his pockets to hide how they'd balled into fists to match the tightness in his chest.  
  
"But the other things I don't even know how to put into words. I feel... _wrong_ in my own head, and my own skin. I'm never not _me_ , but sometimes my thoughts aren't— Aren't entirely _human_. And I just don't know how to _deal_ with that."  
  
As he listened to Kevin spill everything out to him as desperately as a drowning man needed air, Javier felt more helpless than he could remember feeling in his life. There was no stopping that flood of wrongness, and no looking away. It was like a train wreck happening in front of him, his best friend deconstructing his own sanity with a momentum that was headed toward disaster.  
  
"And you really haven't seen the worst bits. It's easier when I'm at work, 'cause the station's hectic and just _flooded_ as hell, but if I'm working my mind's not on what's happening to me. I can hang onto being how I used to be if I focus, but sometimes I— Sometimes it's just too much, and I _can't_. And I had no idea what it was, not for almost that whole first month, but I knew it meant...something. That something was going to happen. Like I could _feel_ where it was leading, even if I didn't know in my head. And Jenny..."  
  
He paused for a breath that shook painfully, continuing with a broken agony in his voice.  
  
"Putting up with my temper was bad enough, but when I told her that, when I told her the other parts too... She tried to be there for me, she did, but she was afraid. Of me. I mean— I _never_ thought I could hurt her, I wouldn't have been around her if I thought that, Javi, you know that, but— You said it yourself, bro. I've been acting..." A gesture as he grasped for an adequate word dropped to his side abruptly with a laugh that was more than a little hysterical. "Like a lunatic."  
  
Kevin pressed knuckles against his eyes, having reached the point of fighting tears.  
  
"So she was scared. She tried not to show it, but honestly that just made it worse, because I knew better. Because fear _does_ have a smell, believe it or not. And it wasn't her fault, but it was like I couldn't even be around her without being reminded of how wrong I am inside. And _I_ couldn't escape that, but it wasn't fair for her to live like that if she didn't have to. And we both thought it was for the best, but still, once she was gone I just wanted to—"  
  
Kevin looked him in the eye for the first time throughout his confession, wetting his lips as they stretched into a fragile, self-conscious smile.  
  
"Well, you were there."  
  
"It wasn't long after Jenny left that I knew...when. When that thing, whatever it was, would happen. And once I realized when it was I knew _what_ it was, and believe me, I thought I'd lost my friggin' mind. And I thought about taking myself somewhere for help, I really did, but I didn't have time, because it ..." He swallowed thickly, pushing down his horror with a shudder. "It _happened_. It wasn't like in the movies. There are parts of it I don't remember, and the bits that I do are too confusing to even...I can't— I don't want to talk about it. But it happened, Javi. In two more days it's happening _again_ , and I don't know what I'm going to do."  
  
Those words, Kevin's wrenching, earnest, expression of naked terror, raised the hair on his arms. Because the man was utterly _convinced_ that everything that had happened could be blamed on an imaginary animal living in his head. Javier knew that if he didn't do something he was going to lose his partner, his best friend. That could _not_ happen. The thought raised something desperate and possessive inside him. Nothing and no one was taking Kevin from him without a fight.  
  
He didn't even remember taking a step forward. His hands gripped Kevin's shoulders, just this side of too tightly, and Kevin was looking at him warily, hopefully. Looking into his partner's eyes, somehow, Javier found the words he needed.  
  
"I'll _tell_ you what's going to happen, Kev. I'm going to be there, that night, and I'm going to _prove_ to you that what you think is happening is not happening." He gave Kevin's shoulders a soft squeeze, lighting his grip. "Then you and me are going to find out what really is going on."  
  
Kevin's eyes closed lightly and he gave a soft sigh."You'd rather just believe I'm going crazy?"  
  
His voice didn't sound accusing or surprised. Just tired. There was a list to his posture, so much of his tension gone that he seemed almost limp. Javier gave him a light shake, bringing Kevin's attention back to him.  
  
"You've always been a little crazy, bro." He said, trying to keep his voice light, and offering his partner a smile that he was miles away from feeling. "And I don't like to think it, but werewolves do _not_ exist. Just got to see you through the full moon so we can prove that. Then, if we have to, we can get you _help_."  
  
Kevin searched his face for a few moments, finally giving a small nod.  
  
"Okay." He agreed finally, the word hardly a whisper.  
  
Javier had expected more resistance to the offer. He decided to take its absence as a good sign. If Kevin could be reasoned with that much, then perhaps there was still a chance this could work out alright. In some mindlessly optimistic part of his brain he still half-hoped that the whole thing was just the weirdest heterosexual freak-out _ever_...  
  
As they returned to work, each doing their level best to pretend their lives hadn't been knocked violently off-axis, Javier thanked God with more sincerity than he had for anything in a long time that he'd never mentioned the bite mark.


	3. Chapter 3

If there was a graceful way of handling a partner who believed he'd been turned into some kind of shapeshifting monster, Javier would have loved to know about it.  It turns out that werewolves are one of those things you just do not try and research online due to a frightening degree of over-saturation.

It took a lot of doing for him to find anything remotely helpful, which really wasn't helpful in the least.  Because the more he read, the more this sounded like something serious.  He found out that imagining oneself turning into some kind of animal was a rare but not unheard of delusion, appearing occasionally as an idiosyncratic symptom of schizophrenia, which coupled with the mood swings and aggression made for a terrifying possibility.  Hallucinations and personality changes could also be caused by a brain tumor.  He reached a paragraph about disinhibition in subjects with lesions on the frontal lobe when it hit him like a fist to the gut.

Whatever this eventually turned out to be, it was the reason Ryan had slept with him.

The realization left Javier hunched over his kitchen sink for a minute and a half before he managed to wrestle some control over the sharp nausea coiled in his stomach.  It was even longer before he could manage to move, feet rooted by horror, guilt weighing heavy across his shoulders.  He downed a glass of water, rinsed his mouth, there was nothing that could wash away that sick feeling that knowledge left with him.

Rationally, _rationally_ he knew there was no way he could have known what was happening to his partner, that there had been nothing to spot that would have indicated... _this_.  But a small, hateful part of his mind insisted that he _should_ have known, should have looked closer, should have pushed more and found out what was happening before the horrible _mistake_ he had made.

Mistake.  As though the word was anywhere near adequate for what he'd done.

He knew rationally that possessed of a full knowledge of the situation he would have done right by his partner that night.  That he would never-- _could_ never--intentionally hurt Ryan.  But intentional or not the damning, inalterable fact kept screaming through his brain that he _had_.  That he'd hurt him, failed him, violated and betrayed their partnership, their friendship, their trust.

From any angle he tried to examine, one thing Javier saw clearly was that attempting to diagnose Ryan on his own wouldn't help anyone.  He was honest enough with himself to accept that neither would his guilt or his shame.  He would have to shove those things in a box and answer for them later, because right now they weren't what Kevin needed.  He needed something stable, familiar, safe, something to keep him grounded. Javier was so far away from being any of that, but at the moment he was all Ryan had.  He had to focus, put his own damage aside and focus on _Ryan_.  Later, after the full moon was past, when Ryan was willing to see sense and accept help, only then could he afford the selfish hope that some few pieces of their friendship could be salvaged from the wreckage.

The two days leading up to the full moon were the longest Javier could remember passing in his life.  They stretched out with an unreality heightened by exhaustion as anxiety stole any hope of sleep.  As drawn out as the hours were, the ticking-clock nightmare urgency of the looming event left his stomach pinched with anticipation.  Because he was eager to clear that hurdle, oh Christ did he ever want to get that over with, but at the same time he dreaded the consequences.  Kevin had been surprisingly cooperative with the plan so far, but Javier knew that it could change in an instant once his partner's delusions were challenged directly.  

That he might react violently was a terrifying but very real possibility.  As difficult as the thought was, Javier had to accept that and try to be ready for whatever came his way.

He and Ryan hardly spoke during those two days except for work.  If things between them hadn't already been so strained and bizarre the silence would have raised red flags with just about anyone who knew them at all, but the simple fact was that words weren't needed.  The sick irony of that didn't escape him.  Tearing the scab off the wound that festered at the root of Ryan's strange behavior had put him back into step with his partner.  It shouldn't have been possible after the revelation of something so horrible, but it happened.  They weren't back to routine, the topic crowding both of their minds near-constantly cut their normal banter down to an almost nonexistent minimum, but he and Kevin had other ways to communicate.  Those ties seemed as strong as ever.

It crossed his mind more than once that, given the tragic...misunderstanding that had taken place, he should probably keep his distance, but he only had to look at Ryan for every nerve in his body to tell him that was wrong, wrong, _so_ wrong.  Now that he knew the reason for the change, or some small part of it, now that he was looking Javier could see what he'd missed before.  It wasn't Kevin's temper that had started driving them away, not entirely, and definitely not after that first month when he'd managed to keep it in check.  

Ryan had been making a deliberate effort to isolate himself, drawing away from everyone by inches.

It made Javier angry.  Angry at himself for not seeing it, angry at _Ryan_ for writing himself off, cutting himself off from them like they wouldn't notice he was gone.  That was not okay.  Javier was _so_ not okay with that and he had to let Ryan know it.  He had to know that he was not alone.  Not in this.  Not any more.  Never was.  So whenever he caught Ryan brooding, dwelling or worrying, even though they couldn't talk about it he found some other way to prove that.

It was simple enough to catch Ryan's attention with his eyes, a nod, a soft sound, but often he said what was needed bodily.  Spoke by being there, spoke with a touch to the arm or shoulder, spoke with a press of their shoulders or a prolonged brush of their arms as he passed.  The first such contact had been made nervously, afraid of how Kevin would respond, but he'd felt the tension bleed out through his touch, seen the surprised and grateful smile twitch briefly across his partner's face.  The exchanges never drew any unusual attention, or if they did no one said anything, though he caught Beckett watching them once with an expression that seemed vaguely relieved.

And if each conversation of presence, expression and touch ignited a flicker of hope, he shoved that too into the box with everything else he couldn't afford to think about. 

That they would pull a high profile case the night of the full moon was pretty much typical of the kind of luck Javier had come to expect since Castle joined their team.  If he'd had a few more days to prepare or less on his mind in the time he'd had, he might have anticipated something like that and made adjustments.  But he didn't, and he hadn't, and they were half screwed for it. 

Kevin, God bless him, had a doctor's appointment on the books that he'd set up the week before.  He had a vague excuse lined up about a personal-sounding low-grade infection, cleanly designed to discourage prying.  He'd also been twitchy for most of the afternoon, and the spots of color in his cheeks helped sell his point, making Ryan's exit fairly bulletproof. 

Javier would have been impressed if he'd had the luxury. 

Frowning into the day-old Chinese he and Ryan had sniped from the breakroom fridge, he briefly contemplated faking food poisoning.  But, even with legitimately sketchy take-out on his side, he knew Beckett would see right through him.  His hail mary was an offer to drive Ryan to the hospital since they'd shared a ride to the station, but Kate wasn't having any of that either.

"One of you can grab a taxi.  I can't spare you both tonight."

That splash was the sound of his plans being rocketed right the fuck out of the water.

"Plan B."  He told Ryan quickly as the elevator doors were closing.  "Call me when you get home."

He hadn't actually had a Plan B--there had barely been a Plan A beyond _"Be there for Ryan"_ \--but Kevin didn't have to know that, because Javier had figured one out by the time he called.  He moved his papers and his laptop to one of the side offices to work, something he and Ryan often did to try and focus, so Beckett wouldn't think anything of it. 

Kevin's breathing sounded ragged over the line.  Javier waited as his partner hooked up his webcam, a twist of nervousness worming in his gut until the other man appeared on the screen.  From the way he sprawled listless and heavy in the desk chair, the keyed-up energy from earlier appeared to have left him.  His eyes showed the brightness of fever even on the monitor.  Ryan seemed more flushed than he had before leaving the station, a stain of pink running as far down his exposed chest as Javier could see. 

The less he thought about Kevin's state of undress or his reason for it the better.

"How you doing?" 

The words came to his lips thoughtlessly, and Javier totally deserved the eloquent look of "are-you- _stupid_ " he got for it.  After a moment, though, Kevin let out a soft huff of breath, palm laid awkwardly against the back of his neck as he answered the question more seriously.

"I feel overheated and kind of...buzzed, I guess.  If it happens like last time, that'll build until I, it--"  He broke off, forehead creasing fretfully.  Javier saw his fingers twitch minutely where they rested on the keys.  He wet his lips before he continued, hesitantly.  "Moonrise.  As far I as could piece it together nothing--  _It_ didn't happen until moonrise."

It was the most Ryan had said on the subject in two days, and the first time he'd spoken of "it" at all.  Javier listened, trying not to let his skepticism show.  Not that Javier doubted for a minute that something really had happened that night.  Some seizure, episode, _something_ that been terrifying and confusing.  Something Kevin hadn't been able to cope with directly, and his detective's mind had put details together and somehow come up with _this_ in an attempt to make sense of it.  Even if it didn't make any sense at all.

Javier held onto the plan in his head:  Watch, make sure he doesn't hurt himself, give him proof that what he thinks is happening _isn't_ , and then get him to a doctor who could uncover the actual cause of his partner's...situation.  One which hopefully, _hopefully_ would prove to be something physical, _fixable_ , so that they could both forget this ever happened. 

Or at least let Kevin forget.  Javier would have to forgive himself, first.  The jury was still out on that ever happening.

His partner's present symptoms were probably stress induced, Javier decided.  Allowing for what Kevin believed was going to happen, he felt that much was was understandable.   That, and suggestion could have a pretty powerful effect on the body.  Then again, Javier figured, the symptoms of fever could have another cause entirely.  Maybe there _had_ been something wrong with that Chinese, because he was feeling rather warm himself.  Javier snuck a finger under the collar of his shirt to loosen it.  Kevin must have noticed.

"Are _you_ okay?"

"Huh?  _Me_ , bro?  I'm fine." 

From the heavy blink he got in response, it didn't seem Ryan was buying it.

"Shit.  Javi.  Wait..."  His words came out rough, panted unevenly between breaths.  His eyes narrowed slightly as he tried to focus.  "Did I--" 

Ryan's eyelids fluttered closed, words cut off with a dry swallow that clicked loudly enough to be heard over the line.  Javier watched the phone fall from lax fingers, heard in his ear the soft clatter as it hit the floor somewhere out of sight.  A few soft noises carried over through the speaker, but they were frustratingly distant and indistinct, too muffled to identify in source or nature.  If they came from Ryan there was no visible indication, he was utterly still.  The video feed itself had no sound on either end, and the seconds drew out painfully as Javier was left watching his partner in silence.

Javier's heart lurched as he ended the call, a stab of distress shooting through him as the connection severed.  Except the barely visible shuddering of his limbs, Ryan still wasn't moving, and if he was having some kind of stroke or fit then Javier couldn't afford to wait.  He had to send help.  He _intended_ to send help, only-- 

Only his thumb froze on the first "1", because he simply could _not_ be seeing what he was seeing.

" _Que carajo?_ "

It wasn't like the movies.  There was no thrashing or growling, no sprouting hair or snapping bones.  Just a soft, smooth...stretch, and his partner was gone, leaving the wolf behind as if it had always been there.  Gold eyes opened, staring at him from the monitor, a flash of white teeth and panting tongue, fur a rusty mix of light gray and mid-brown.  And _big._   Bigger than any dog breed Javier could hope to name offhand.  Javier sat, helpless with shock until everything went sideways, leaving him staring dumbly at the ceiling of Kevin's apartment.

Jesus Christ.  He didn't care _what_ Kate said.  He had to get to Ryan.  He wasn't sure what exactly he could possibly do when he got there, he just had to _get there_.

The blow which had upset his reality was too fresh for Javier to hide his panic as he bolted out of the office he'd been using.  Castle and Beckett both noticed.  Had perhaps noticed long ago that something strange was going on.  He should _definitely_ have known they'd follow, but at this point it was hard to bring himself to care. 

"Something--  I have to pick up Ryan."  He told Beckett, not waiting for her to ask.  It was as much of the truth as his brain could manage to give them right now.  "Something's up and I gotta make sure he's okay."

When they followed him into elevator, a semi-hysterical part of him wanted to cry.  He was already painfully close to shorting out mentally, and if he tried to field any questions right now he'd probably wind up a drooling mess.  The close confines of the car felt cramped and hot.  Javier undid the buttons on his polo, bracing his hands against the wall for support.  He tried to even out his breathing, and while it didn't help to cool the panic fluttering in his chest, it managed to calm his stomach just a little. 

He flinched as he felt something cool brush his forehead.  Opening his eyes he swatted Castle's hand away.

" _Dude_."

"Ah, man, you're burning up.  You coming down with whatever he's got?"

"I don't like the idea of you getting behind the wheel with a fever."  Beckett said, talking over Castle.  "Let me know where Ryan is and I can pick him up."

And _that_ was such a bad idea.  Javier shook his head.

"Nah, I got this.  You stay on the case, and I'll call when--"  His thoughts ground to a halt and left him blinking stupidly for several seconds as his brain finished processing Castle's words.

 _You coming down with what he's got?_

"Shit...  Oh _shit_."

He leaned heavily against the wall as his knees threatened to give, frantically squashing buttons on the panel in front of him.  The small, suffering bit of his brain that was still clinging painfully to rational thought knew that it wouldn't make the elevator stop any faster, but the whole situation was so far beyond rational that part was obsolete anyway.  The surge of adrenaline cleared some of the fog from his head, helped him focus past the warm, heavy ache that he felt pooling in his bones.  Helped him isolate the sharp plane of heat and pressure cutting through his chest, straining like a seam that was trying to split.

"Get me out of here _now_!"

Beckett was trying her best to get him to calm down, but it was difficult for him to listen.  He wished her good luck with that, though. Because he wasn't sure there was actually a _good_ place to turn into a freaking monster, but he knew the elevator wasn't it, and he was _positive_ Castle's obituary should bear the headline _Mystery Writer Strangled by 'Muse'_ and not _Mystery Writer Murdered by Werewolf_.  And as fates worse than death went, Javier ranked the thought of answering to _that_ one to Alexis Castle's scary blue eyes all shiny with tears somewhere between explaining to her father exactly _how_ he'd been bitten by his partner and castration on barbed wire.

And _finally_ the doors slid open.

Javier pushed himself away from the wall, stumbling out into the hallway.  He managed only a few steps before he fell to his knees. That burning line running through the center of him was starting to give, he could feel whatever was behind it trying to break him open.  The floor seemed ice-cold against his cheek as he bent forward, curled up with a hand clutched to his chest as if that could stop it.  But he just...couldn't...hold _on_.  The voices of Castle and Beckett were distant and distorted as they caught up with him, drowned out by the blood rushing noisily in his head.  And the last thing he was aware of was Kate rolling him over, of looking up at her as he tried to speak, only he couldn't get his mouth to form the words.

Which sucked, because he was trying to tell her to run.


	4. Chapter 4

He was aware of the chill long before waking. There was a soft warmth beside him, and his sleeping mind just wanted to burrow against it, bury his face in its safe, familiar scent and try to forget the world. Forget the dozens of other smells, all crowding in to drag him from sleep. Coffee, concrete, sweat, urine, bleach, others he couldn't name, and a sour, stale stink that underlay everything and stirred a twist of anxiety in his gut. It was confusing and overwhelming, and almost more than he could begin to make sense of, but it was his half-conscious recognition of the warm body by his side that drew him fully awake.

Javier opened his eyes, slowly, and confirmed that he was curled tightly around his partner, face pressed against the back of Kevin's neck.

They were lying naked on a rumpled blanket, one that was doing a miserable job of either padding or warming the cold concrete beneath them. His joints felt loose and his limbs heavy, clumsy. His skin burned faintly and an abused ache warmed his muscles, but both sensations were slowly fading. With them another, peculiar feeling began to ebb, one that he hadn't noticed until it began to recede. A feeling of bones that were too long, and skin two sizes too small, stretched over a frame that didn't fit it anymore. An overwhelming feeling of wrongness with his own body that departed far, far too slowly leaving him shaken and confused and, for a few moments, afraid to even think. Afraid that the thoughts might not really be _his_.

Even more afraid that, if they weren't, he might not know the difference.

Once his stomach had settled down, as much as it was going to, Javier managed to identify his surroundings. It shouldn't have been difficult to recognize the holding cells at the 12th, even if he never had seen them from exactly this angle. The room looked very different with the thick blankets hung up against the bars--a visual his mind associated with mating season at the zoo, and Javier would have done _anything_ disown his subconscious at this point. Even though his view of the hallway was blocked he knew they were not alone. Their jailer's presence was betrayed by both sound and scent. Though perhaps "babysitter" was a better word. He refused to think about when his memory might have cataloged the scent, but Javier knew to a certainty without having to see that the man in the hall was Castle.

Javier briefly considered waking Ryan. If there were some existing etiquette for this kind of situation, he was painfully unaware of it. There were a number of situations life simply could not adequately prepare you for. This was clearly one of them. After a few uncertain moments, Javier decided it was kindest to let him sleep a little longer. He rose slowly, tucking his side of the blanket carefully over his partner. Kevin, thankfully, did not wake.

There was clothing sitting on the bench inside the cell. Javier recognized a few of the items as the spares he kept at the station. The others were also somewhat familiar, and if he had to guess they had either been retrieved from Ryan's apartment or a locker here at the 12th. As he pulled on his jeans, Javier briefly wondered what had become of the clothes he'd been wearing before, but quickly decided it was a question to which he didn't particularly want an answer.

He drew the makeshift curtains open carefully. Castle, engrossed in his phone, didn't notice. An absurd and horrifying thought crossed Javier's mind. If any of this wound up on Twitter, he swore, he fucking _would_ murder Castle. And he'd write _that_ damned obituary himself. Javier cleared his throat softly.

He was only appropriately amused when Castle jumped in his chair. _Honest_.

The writer turned to face him very quickly, the expression on his face caught somewhere between relief and apprehension. And curiosity, too. Always curiosity with Castle. An immature stab of fear jolted in his gut. Castle would have all these _questions_...

Javier held up a finger just as Castle opened his mouth. Whatever he'd been about to say halted in the writer's throat.

"Choose your next words very carefully, Castle." Javier warned flatly; he barely managed not to react to the surprisingly low, hoarse crackle of his own voice. "Also, one of those coffees better be mine or I'll slap the shit out of you and not even feel bad about it."

The relief won out after a quick blink and Castle handed him a cup from the cardboard tray by his chair. Javier offered a soft grunt of thanks and took a drink, grimacing. The coffee was over-bitter and burnt tasting as he should have guessed it would be. Castle watched in silence. Perhaps taking Javier's advice, or possibly just giving the caffeine a chance to do it's job before he risked his life via conversation. Javier wasn't about to help him out. A speechless Richard Castle wasn't a sight life granted him often. It seemed it was one of the very few up-sides to the indignity he'd just suffered, and Javier was going to let himself enjoy it.

"So." Castle said finally, breaking the long, half-awkward silence between them. "Werewolf. That must suck."

Now Javier was at a loss. Leave it to Castle to sum up the whole thing almost perfectly in just four words.

"Yeah." He agreed finally, trying to keep a steel grip on the panic that was beginning to cut through now that his disorientation was waning and he was being forced to look his situation in the eye. "So far there's not a lot to recommend it."

Castle, it turned out, did have his uses. As Javier struggled through the rest of his coffee, the writer did his best to fill him in on just what had happened the night before. Starting with the unbelievably fortunate discovery that the wolf--the wolf that was _Javier_ \--wasn't aggressive. Not toward the two of them, at least.

"Kate figured that maybe that meant you were still in there, somewhere." Castle explained. "And when you lit out of the bullpen, you were trying to get to Ryan. So maybe you--er, the wolf--still had the same goal in mind."

According to Castle, Beckett had managed to _talk_ him into the cell, with coaxing and threats and by promising to bring Ryan to him. Which sounded incredibly far fetched, except that it rang a bell--distantly.

Prodding at the recollection, Javier unearthed a sense of the night's events that was _there_ , if distorted. The memory was non-visual, non-verbal for the most part, though there were a few brief flashes of imagery. Vague, overall, like trying to recall the plot of a movie he'd seen years ago, and it was difficult finding context. But he did remember, now that Castle mentioned it. Remembered following Beckett, the familiar halls of the precinct painted with alien new detail, remembered growing restless and ill at ease when he was left alone with only that sour smell to keep him company.

That scent which even now had him wanting to pace out of his skin.

Javier decided right away that he wouldn't ask Beckett for her own version of events. That way he could pick and choose which parts of Castle's--undoubtedly much-embellished--account he wanted to believe. Though of course, as if what he'd been told had somehow not been disturbing or descriptive enough, Castle had to show him the pictures.

"I turned into a damned monster and your first thought was to take pictures with your phone?" It really was unsettling how obsessed the writer was with that thing. "Castle, that is messed _up_."

The lighting in the cells wasn't the best, and most of the pictures were over-dark and grainy, the creature captured as little more than an indistinct, dark blur or streak of reflected light. Only a few were of sufficient quality to show the wolf in any reliable detail. The base color of the coat was a light grey, much like he'd seen on Ryan, but the markings themselves were a darker rich brown that was almost black. Javier was somewhat surprised by the lack of impact, certain the pictures should have inspired some greater reaction. He wasn't sure what he could possibly have expected, but if it had been recognition there wasn't any to be had. It was impossible to look at those pictures and see himself anywhere in them.

But "unsettling" and "messed up" were both entirely inadequate to cover the sheer, sick surreality he felt when Castle played the video.

The howl that echoed through the room was made tinny and high pitched by the phone's small speakers, yet it brought the hair standing on the back of his neck, igniting a wordless sense of _wrong_ in his mind. There was a stubborn part of his brain still frantically arguing " _not me not me not me_ ", but just the same another entirely different part _understood_ that searching tone. That part knew exactly how that note should have sounded, knew exactly what it had been saying. And who it had been searching _for._

And apparently, so did Ryan, because it was then that the other man finally began to stir.

Javier went to his side and almost immediately knew something was wrong. Kevin had opened his eyes but the lids were heavy and stubbornly refused to stay that way.  His gaze was bleary and unfocused. He wasn't moving much, and when he did the motion was sluggish. Javier heard the cell door squeal as he helped his partner to sit upright. He felt a tug on his sleeve and looked up to find Castle looking at him almost sheepishly.

"Beckett had to dart him." The writer offered, hesitantly.

"Beckett _what_."

Though his mind was having trouble processing the idea as reality, it wasn't really a question. Not exactly.

"When we tried to bring him back to the station he kind of panicked and..." Javier would have thought he was long past the point of being able to muster any sort of outrage, but Castle wilted guiltily under his gaze.

Javier tried to dismissed the anger he felt on Ryan's behalf. He had more important things to worry about. He slid an arm around Kevin's back and one under his knees lifting him onto one of the benches. It took some effort, but Javier eventually managed to get his partner sitting up, blanket still wrapped around him. Step two was getting some caffeine into his system. Watching his sleepy partner turn his head away from the cup like a sick kid refusing to take his medicine might almost have been cute under different circumstances.

As the fog withdrew from his eyes, Javier saw it replaced with a desperate terror as Ryan became aware of where he was, that he was naked, and quickly coming to a full realization of the situation.

"Oh God... Did--  Did I...?" Kevin's fumbling fingers closed weakly around Javier's wrist, commanding his focus like no stronger grip could have. His voice was small at first, his words slurring softly, though panic was starting to burn through the effects of the narcotics. "Javi, did I hurt someone? I don't-- I can't remember this time. Why--"

"Nah, you were a puppy," Castle reassured him...in his own tactless way. Perhaps because he knew he could get away with it with Ryan. From the faint, skeptical raise to his eyebrows at the writer's joke, maybe it even helped. "Esposito's the one who made a rookie piss himself."

And shit if Javier didn't remember _that_ now.

It was difficult to connect the scent-memory which came unwanted with his own knowledge of the station, but he thought it might have been Officer Mercurio from Robbery. That oh so fond recollection brought with it another helpfully unhelpful piece of information, finally serving to identify the sour-stale odor that permeated the room. Because fear _does_ have a smell, just like Ryan had said. Javier realized now that the holding cell was saturated with it, years of suspects passing through had painted its walls thickly with the harried scent of captive prey...

Fortunately or not, Javier didn't have long to dwell on that definition.

"Javi?"

Kevin was staring at him, eyes wide and searching. There was no mistaking the question that he saw there, and nothing to gain from lying. Javier gave a very slight nod, and felt the fingers on his wrist tighten before they let go entirely, the hand falling into Ryan's lap.

"Oh my God, Javi, I--" His voice was tight and low, just above a whisper. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry...I--"

Javier knelt down in front of his partner, laying a hand on his knee. He squeezed, a little more tightly than he'd meant to but it got Ryan's attention, bringing his apologies to a halt.

"Don't." He said, looking into Kevin's eyes. " _Don't_. You didn't mean it. I know you didn't mean to. So just...don't worry about it."

Ryan's eyes cut away from his, mouth opening as though he meant to argue. Wrapped up in the blanket, shame visible on his face, Kevin made for a rather pathetic picture. Javier didn't think he'd ever seen him--seen _anyone--look_ so vulnerable. He wanted desperately to find some way to wipe that expression away. Some way to tell him it was okay. Things weren't _okay_ , not by a god damned long-shot, but... Javier wasn't angry. He didn't blame Ryan, and he just wished there was some way to make the man _believe_ it. Words seemed so useless. He needed to _show_ him.

Castle's cough startled him away from his thoughts. For a moment, Javier had all but forgotten the writer was there. Brought back to himself so abruptly, Javier realized how close in he'd gotten to Ryan, his face only inches away. He didn't remember leaning in. And his hand was still on Kevin's knee. He removed it with a slow breath and stood, stretching out his hand to his partner

"C'mon," he told Kevin quietly, "lets get you dressed and get the hell out of here."

The halls were sparsely populated as they followed Castle out of holding. It was still very early in the morning, so that wasn't unexpected. Still, Javier noticed that most of the eyes that _were_ present refused to meet his directly. Through the first few encounters, Javier tried to reassure himself that they couldn't possibly _know_. Then he remembered the howl, the one that Castle had captured on his phone. That sound had to have carried through the entire floor at least--if not half the building. It dawned on him with a sick suddenness that it would be practically impossible for them _not_ to know. Know _something_. Or suspect, even subconsciously. Suddenly, the whole thing shifted in his perception, feeling like some kind of twisted walk of shame. And that--curiosity, fear, revulsion, he wasn't sure what--that he was seeing in people's eyes as he walked past...he didn't know how to meet that.

Shit. Was there any way to salvage his dignity when soon the entire precinct was going to know he'd spent the night on four legs?

It was difficult for him to stay focused on it though. Castle insisted on keeping them occupied with absurd chatter and questions almost the whole way. While Javier ignored almost half of what the author said, he was ridiculously grateful, if only for the familiarity. And, as Kevin was slowly coaxed out of the drop-shouldered, kicked-dog posture of guilt he recognized from the month before, Javier realized that Castle was being an ass on purpose.

"Anyway, I think I'm due an 'I told you so'."

"What?" Ryan said, vaguely offended by the writer's words. Backtracking the conversation he'd spaced out on, Javier was right there with him.

"No, Castle, there is no 'I told you so' here."

"Hey, c'mon. You two always made fun of me for believing in stuff like this."

"Yeah," Javier allowed, "only you _weren't_ bitten by a vampire and you _weren't_ cursed by a mummy."

"Hey, you guys didn't exactly _help_ with that last one--"

"Or abducted by aliens," Kevin reminded sharply.

"And the psychic was fake." Javier added, and his partner pointed at him to emphasize his point.

It was the closest to normal as Javier had experienced in more than two months, and it was almost impossible to fight a smile. Castle _did_ have his uses.

Once they'd been brought to Montgomery's office the Captain had demanded an explanation, of course. Ryan began with the dog attack and supplied everything up to his retaliatory assault on their suspect--which in light of his normal disposition had never been adequately explained. Javier picked up after that, describing his confrontation with Ryan in a way that neatly edited just about everything that happened in between. It was already by far the most bizarre report Javier had ever had to make to a superior in his life, it didn't have to become the most _awkward_ one as well. He filled in the rest of the story up until moonrise--

And after that, what was there left to say?

"How much do you both remember?" Montgomery asked then, with only the faintest bit of caution.

"The elevator." Javier answered quickly. "I got out of the elevator. Then nothing."

It was a bald lie; by now, Javier was sure he remembered almost all of it. It was simply a problem of accepting those memories as belonging to _him_ , and he just wasn't ready to do that. It was a problem Ryan apparently didn't have.

"It'll come to you," Kevin said to him quietly.

Too quietly, he realized slowly, for the others to have caught it. Javier didn't know if it was meant as a reassurance or a warning. He honestly wasn't sure which he would prefer at this point.

Then Javier listened uncomfortably as his partner described his own memories of that night for the others--what few memories there were. Things became hazy leading up to when Beckett had drugged him, but the rest was still as clear as day. How at moonrise he'd been talking to Javier when he changed, and that after the change had been distressed not to be able to find him. In that state, the video on his computer hadn't registered as being real; it hadn't smelled or sounded like Javier. And then he'd spent the next few minutes searching for him in the apartment before becoming frustrated and deciding to wait. The very last thing Ryan concretely remembered was catching Kate's scent under the door...

It was disturbing to hear Kevin put it that way. What _he_ had done, what _he_ had experienced, recounting the inhuman thoughts of this animal as though the wolf and Ryan weren't separate creatures at all.

After that, the Captain had dismissed them, his mind on damage control. Word was already being passed around discreetly that this incident would _not_ leave the station. As softly as Montgomery was known for walking when it came to running his ship, it was understood that in this instance any breach would be met with the stick. Javier wasn't optimistic about how long that silence could possibly last, but sincerely wished him luck.

Speaking of damage control, Javier's first order of business was his laptop.

Ignoring a stab of reluctance as he left Kevin to Castle's uncertain mercies, Javier returned to the side office. Forgotten in all the excitement, the computer still sat undisturbed just where he'd left it. In his absence, the program had recorded for more than three hours before the computer on the other end had disconnected. He deleted the video without viewing it, but Javier was unable to keep it from replaying in his mind. The transformation it had captured. The creature. The wolf.

 _Kevin._

Sitting in front of the computer, Javier stared at the screen and felt strangely numb. That video had been meant as proof. It was meant to reinforce an understanding of reality that, until last night had never betrayed him; an understanding that the world might not always make sense, but that there were rules that it followed all the same.

It was supposed to bring Ryan back to him. 

Whatever rules the world followed they obviously weren't the ones he had believed. His only bitter consolation was that, having failed to save his partner from the strange new reality that had claimed him, Javier had been helpless to save himself from being pulled in after. Whatever else he might have lost, Ryan was still with him. Still _his_. 

That thought probably shouldn't have been as reassuring as it was

When Javier was finished, he returned to the main office, and quickly noticed a bundle sitting on his desk. His wallet, keys, and watch had been left for him, wrapped in the shirt he'd been wearing the night before. It was more or less intact, though a seam in the left shoulder had been stretched loose. His stomach gave a queasy flutter at the sight of the short, coarse hairs embedded in the fabric, and he dropped the thing into the wastebasket. If he'd had a lighter handy he might have set it on fire.

He was still staring down at it when Beckett found him.

"The Captain's sending us all home. It's been...a rough night. You should get some sleep."

"Kevin--" He couldn't be sure the needy tone that crept into his voice was actually there. He _was_ exhausted, after all.

"Already left. Castle was nice enough to pay for a cab, since Ryan didn't have his wallet."

Maybe it _was_ nice of Castle, but it was damned inconvenient to Javier at that moment. There was a conversation between him and Ryan that still needed to take place, though it wasn't one he looked forward to. And as incredible as it was to believe, there was still room for this fucked up day to get so much _worse_...


	5. Chapter 5

The sky was growing dark again by the time Javier turned up at Kevin's door.

Part of it was cowardice, he could admit that. Another, significant, part had been the bone-deep tiredness which had knocked him out for most of the day. Mostly, it was the simple fact that traveling through the city had been an utter nightmare. From Ryan's account the effects of his affliction had crept up on him slowly. It seemed as though the timing hadn't given Javier that luxury, and the city he'd lived in all his life had been suddenly transformed into a hostile and alien planet. The sounds and smells of traffic―automotive, human, or otherwise―had driven him well past distraction. He felt lucky to have made it home at all...he hadn't been _that_ much of a menace on the road since he got his license at seventeen. Once he'd entered his apartment the feeling of _safesafesafehome_ was so strong he'd contemplated locking the door behind him and never opening it again. In fact, only the knowledge that his partner had managed to function like this for nearly two _months_ kept him from doing just that.

Thus, by the time he managed to suck it up and call a cab, most of the day had fled. At least the ride had left him free to contemplate just what he was supposed to say when he got there.

The door opened before he even had a chance to knock. There was a concerned frown etched onto Kevin's forehead as his eyes, and whatever other senses, assessed Javier quickly. Whatever his partner took in from that short appraisal he tilted his head subtly, a gesture that Javier didn't realize he'd read as invitation until he was already acting on it. Kevin's hair was dry, but Javier knew he'd showered recently―from the fresh soap scent, but also because he'd done the same, desperate to scrub away the sour stress-fear-piss smell of the cage they'd woken up to. Looking around the apartment there was no visible sign that, for a few hours, this had been a cage as well. It crossed his mind to wonder whether Ryan had needed to clean up after the wolf's fruitless searching, or if he'd been able to spend the day passed out as well.

He wondered. He wouldn't ask.

Kevin waved at the couch and Javier sat; his partner's house, his rules. Though he hadn't visited Kevin's apartment in almost a month, Javier noted faint traces of his own scent still present on the couch. Just as faded was the ghost of a whisper of―

 _Jenny_ , Javier realized, the thought striking a territorial rumble of feeling in the back of his mind that he wasn't entirely willing to push away. He stood quickly and tried not to pace as he grasped for the words he'd strung together so painstakingly on the cab ride over.

"So..." Javier said, spreading his arms helplessly, "You fucked me, marked me, and turned me. Does that make us werewolf-married?"

It was, _no-contest_ , the most ridiculous sentence Javier had ever spoken in his entire life. He felt like an idiot, but there was a reason. He had to take the fear out of the situation he and Kevin had found themselves in. He had to make this thing _safe_. If he couldn't manage that, Javier knew Kevin would hate himself forever for what he'd done to him. Javier didn't bother to pretend he didn't know where the idea had come from―and with his earlier fears over Kevin's mental health and his own perceived transgression nearly forgotten, it was so irresistibly simple to let imitating Castle become the new low-point of his life. Of course, the problem with imitation was that, particularly in this instance, it often came rather unexpected. For a few moments Kevin just gaped at him, and Javier could see the outrage brewing beneath the surface of his confusion, waiting for release.

"How can you _joke_ about this? Our lives have turned into some kind of bad horror movie―"

"It did that when Jenny bought you that _tie_."

And Javier had no idea where _that_ had come from exactly, but he'd take it since his brain didn't seem to up to supplying anything sane right now. It also made Kevin angry, which was good, oddly enough. Javier had been expecting―almost _wanting_ ―that anger to pass his way for the past few days. Even if Javier no longer felt he deserved it for the same reasons, if Ryan was _mad_ it would be that much harder for him to feel _guilty_. Case in point: the deadly serious glare his partner was leveling on him at just that moment.

"That's not funny."

"Damned right it's not funny, Kev, but it still happened." He dropped his voice, gesturing between the two of them. Vaguely, but he thought his meaning was plain. " _This_ is still happening."

" _Werewolves_ , Javier." Ryan said, enunciating the word as if Javier were slow and had somehow managed to miss that part. "Freaking _werewolves_. And you're still tripping on the we-slept-together thing?"

"I haven't even _begun_ to get my head around the werewolf thing." Javier admitted, and wasn't _that_ just the fucking truth. " _This_ I can try to deal with. And I'm _not_ tripping on it. I'm tripping on _you_ tripping on it."

He took a breath, stepping away and finally allowing his restlessness to work itself out physically. Only a few aimless steps loosened the tension enough that he could face Ryan again, come close enough to look him in the eye.

"Look, Kev. You're my partner and my _friend_. And that means more to me than..." It meant more than he could possibly articulate, though the thought that he might be denied more stung deeply. "So if you tell me to my face that the wolf made you do something you didn't want to, I'll drop it. But for better or worse we're both on the same side of the mirror now...and I'm starting to feel that's not how it works."

Because Ryan had made it clear back at the station that he considered the wolf to be a facet of himself, if not himself directly. Not some other creature with thoughts and wants of its own but a part of him that, in some fashion, shared his own thoughts and wants with him. There was a lot about this that Javier had no idea how to handle; he was only a day in and the ways he felt himself changing already scared him to death. Still, if accepting the wolf as a part of him might mean he and Kevin could finally be okay it was a sacrifice Javier found he was more than ready to make.

"I _didn't_ want to." Ryan said, the answer bursting forth full of anger, and frustration, and a desperate edge. A cold, heavy feeling settled in Javier's stomach. "There were a million reasons I didn't want to. Our partnership, the police force, Jenny―and oh yeah, that whole crazy _werewolf_ thing. And even without the rest of that I didn't want to screw _us_ up, Javi. Because I knew, okay? Even before all this weirdness I guessed you maybe had feelings for me. And even if I hadn't known _then_ , after I'd... _changed_...it would have been next to impossible not to figure it out."

Kevin's hesitation cost him some of his momentum toward the end. He raked fingers through his hair and took a measured breath before he met Javier's gaze.

"And they were all _good_ reasons. But that night I was just so pissed and... _scared_. And it just cut through all of that like it didn't matter and I wanted..." He hesitated, frustration visible in his eyes that whatever words he had were apparently inadequate to what he needed, his voice thick with the weight of what he couldn't say with them. "I just _wanted_. Wanted you."

Something in that unnamed want broke his voice utterly, or not just his voice― _him_.

"I was afraid I'd lose you like I lost Jenny." Kevin confessed, his voice grown quiet as his eyes strayed away. He stared at nothing for a few seconds before his gaze shot back to Javier's face with a blink, his voice tight and almost lifeless. "You shouldn't have forgiven me, Javi, because I _did_ mean to. Part of me _wanted_ to keep you. To mark you. To make you _mine―_ and that part won't even let me feel _sorry_ for it. I swear I didn't know when it happened that it would drag you into this, but how can that matter when I've ruined your _life_ and there's nothing I can do to fix it?"

Javier stopped him with a firm grip on his shoulder, half to stop him from blaming himself and half because of the visceral effect hearing that word― _mine―_ fromKevin's lips had on him. He felt, in a distant, dying sort of way that it should have disturbed him or made him angry, as if he were something Ryan could _own_. But somehow, belonging to him felt a little like it did joining the military, or the NYPD. It made him feel part of something, bigger, _more_ in every way. More complete.

The feeling was terrifyingly intimate and, to the thing he was becoming, impossibly vital. _Safe. Home._

"But you wanted." Javier struggled to clarify once he found words again. " _You_ wanted."

"I― Yeah."

Javier put a hand on the side of Kevin's neck, sliding his palm up to support his partner's jaw.

"Then it's not ruined." He said simply, as softly as he could with the confused mess of near-alien feelings whirling in his head. "Weird as _shit_ in ways I can't even handle yet, but not ruined."

And finally, _finally_ , Javier saw that lost, broken look ease out of his partner's eyes. He brought their mouths together, gently at first, restrained because he felt Ryan needed it. Waiting, waiting. Then his knee brushed the inside of Kevin's leg, and the dam of tension between them burst. Kevin bit into the kiss like he was starving, and Javier felt that last sliver of ice in his stomach melt away. He wasn't sure if it was the harsh new intensity of his senses, but the kiss felt indescribably more real, more solid than the first; a near-physical agony when he pulled away with a gasp.

" _Bedroom_." The command barely made it out, the part of him that still thought in words rapidly losing ground to the parts that wanted to _touch_ and _taste_ , but if they were going to do this he didn't want it spoiled by any new information he might gain about that freaking couch.

That self control barely got him through the door.

Kevin's hands were all hard, bruising fingertips as they slid up beneath Javier's shirt to explore his back; his stomach shuddered almost imperceptibly as those same fingers passed lightly over his ribs. Javier's hands tangled desperately in the fabric of Kevin's t-shirt, not wanting to interrupt―anything but _that_ ―but impatient for a taste of what lie beneath. He needed to learn every inch of skin in the new ways opened up to him, search through the strong smell of soap and find his partner hiding underneath. The thought flickered through a very stupid part of his brain that tearing the shirt open would be a step too far, and with a resigned grunt he pulled the shirt up and over Kevin's head in a single smooth motion.

Kevin's response was a husky rumble in his throat, just shy of inhuman, before those exploring fingers dropped down to clutch Javier's hips brutally in retaliation. Caught up in his own discoveries, Javier gave a soft, pained hiss, teeth dragging across the flesh of Kevin's throat. Kevin's forehead rested against his shoulder almost gently, rolling with a soft tilt. Javier read a full, complex question in that gesture, and in answer he sat down on the edge of the bed to unbutton Kevin's jeans. Dragging them down he leaned in to drink in the scent, laying a quick nip to the inside of Kevin's thigh.

The feral edge to all of his thoughts and sensations was still terrifying, but Javier reminded himself that it was him. That there was _only_ him, and he would never hurt Kevin. So he let go...surrendering himself to flesh and teeth and Kevin's hands, warm and strong and _perfect_.

Afterward they lie entangled and silent. Tired, neither of them felt like sleeping, but neither felt the need to speak. Yet while any other silence might have isolated them, leaving them alone with their thoughts, there was an awareness that stretched between them. The fear of their uncertain future was only just beginning to wind its tightness back into Javier's muscles when Kevin's forehead was pressed against his. Warm flesh to warm flesh, it imparted regret, and the understanding of Javier's fears, but also gratefulness for him, and the reminder that he wasn't alone.

Javier understood that last already.

He was resigned to the fact that the force which had taken over their lives was not something that could be faced and fought or defeated. All that could be done was to make peace with it, and that was still a very long way off. Yet he and Kevin would survive this. They had each other. And he felt―with a certainty and contentment he shied away from dissecting―that it _would_ be alright. As long as he had Kevin, as long as Kate and the captain and Castle had their backs, things would be okay. It was linked with what he'd felt earlier, that sense of bigger, and belonging, and home... The emotion was strong and unique, and he could pretend he didn't have a name for it, at least until morning.

And he might have easily drifted off, wrapped in that warm security if not for the shrill chirp of his phone. Half asleep, mind miles and eons away from human thought, it took him a second to recognize the sound and retrieve it from his clothes on the floor. It was a text from Castle.

 _wait howd u get bit anyway?_

Javier choked back a groan and let the bastard device fall to the carpet. _Shit_.


	6. Chapter 6

_One Month Later_

The air was frigid and the damp earth beneath them was beginning to steal the warmth from their bodies, but they were both still fresh enough out of the change to ignore it. It was a cold blue morning just after his second full moon—Kevin's third. They were lying together on a blanket spread out on the grass outside Castle's place in the Hamptons. The captain had given them three days without being asked, though he warned them it was just the once. It was remarkably generous under the circumstances. 

Exhausted and naked, cold and dirty, Javier thought he'd had worse vacations. That probably said something about him, though he couldn't say what exactly. 

This second time around the change had been easier. It had felt less like a weight dragging him toward a fall he couldn't stop and more like a gentle pressure... Almost, _almost_ , like he might have been able to resist. If he had chosen to. Castle's property was far enough away from most prying eyes that Javier hadn't seen the point. And there was just something about trees and grass and sea and soil that smelled almost how they were supposed to smell that pulled at him unexpectedly. As though even the wilder part of him that had thought it knew what it was were only now learning. 

A pull, but not a calling. He was still a city-boy at heart. 

There was no line anymore, no struggle. No him and the wolf. Just himself—irrevocably altered by the otherness making itself a home inside of who he was, but still him. It was something he could live with, something which he'd yet to admit to anyone but himself he was actually beginning to enjoy. Sometimes he thought that should scare him more than it did. A month wasn't a long time at all, but already it was difficult to imagine how small and dull his perception of the world had been just that long ago. How little of the world he'd been aware of. In a few months or a few years, he might not be able to imagine it at all. He didn't want that. He didn't want to lose sight the way he used to be. While he no longer feared the way he once did, there was always that sliver of worry that more of what he once was might slip away from him leaving God only knew what in its place. 

As it stood, though, he didn't mind being _this_. 

The only gauge by which he could measure himself was Kevin, a full month ahead of him. Judging by that, the prognosis was apparently good. Since Javier had joined him, his partner's behavior seemed to have stabilized. The flinching insecurity he'd displayed after the full moon had dropped away, and the aggression he'd shown in the beginning had yet to return. And if Kevin was a perhaps little more assertive than he once was, Javier considered it an improvement. Beckett had speculated that he'd merely needed time to adjust, but Javier quietly thought otherwise. After all he'd yet to experience either extreme himself, thank _God_ , b ut then Javier had known since his first night in that he—that Kevin and he—weren't alone in this. Not really. It was a security Kevin hadn't had in the beginning, though Javier knew for certain he felt it now. 

The conversation had taken place only once, after that first night truly together, in few words but with complete understanding. 

_"Do you..." Ryan had paused, eyes taking on that far-off quality Javier had since come to associate with the difficulty of articulating in words a feeling that originated with a part of himself that had no use for them. Javier had had plenty of those moments himself. It had disturbed and frustrated him at first, but he had slowly gotten used to it. "Kate and Montgomery."_

_Even without a full sentence, Javier had easily understood his meaning all the same and snorted, nodding._

_"Castle." He had added, a faint note of both annoyance and affection in his voice._

_Ryan had smiled._

_"Yeah."_

Neither of them had felt the need to clarify what they were talking about. They were merely acknowledging what they each already knew. Wolves needed a pack, and they were just lucky enough to already have one. It was really just that simple. There was a gulf separating them from the others which Javier thought no one but the two of them might ever fully understand, but they didn't doubt for a moment that Beckett and Castle and Montgomery were behind them. And as long as that was true, the 12th would still be safe for them. Would still be  home . 

Inside the house, he could hear the comforting sounds of someone stirring. That meant the afterglow was over. This early it was probably Kate, but he couldn't be too careful. Castle had them figured out after the first night, sure, but that didn't mean they had to give the man any more ammunition than he already had. Javier moved to get up, only to have Kevin's arm tighten around his waist. 

"No..." The word was a warm whisper against the back of his neck, half muffled by sleep. 

Back in the house it would be warm. There was a shower and clothes and knowing Castle probably bacon...and here he was lying in the dirt with Kevin wrapped around him. Javier gave it a longing look. 

Maybe it could wait a few more minutes. 

_The End  
_


End file.
